Through the fog, it vies for my attention. I can barely see it just below the surface of the sand. Grains scattered over the exterior, it’s mottled, difficult to visualize. Dust surrounding, settling, my view is nearly blocked.

People walk past, not seeing what I can almost see, busy, distracted. Although the sun skips on the water’s tips, a haze keeps me from seeing clearly.

I stab and strive, but can’t reach it.

The longer I wait, the deeper it drives. Rooting itself in the bottomless beneath and I fear I will miss my chance. Never see it again.

I beckon passersby, begging them to nab it. I wave and yell, scream. They take no notice of it or me, oblivious to my struggle.

I reach out for what I’m sure will be my last chance and its edges finally hint at my fingertips.

I made it to ten. Ten posts, ten snippets, ten little pieces of me out there for scrutiny. I gotta say, I’m pleased. And, not nearly as concerned about the scrutiny part of it as I probably should be.

I haven’t, so far, made my pieces particularly personal, but they do all come from some aspect, big or small, of my innermost musings. Musings I don’t often share. Thoughts that never see the light of day. Feelings I’d normally keep to myself. Introspection unglued; cut and pasted into a global village. All resident buzz welcome.

What this blog is…what it will become, is unbeknownst to me. Unlike so many others, I don’t have a theme or a premise. That would take too much focus on my part. Hazy was supposed to be a whimsical epithet, but really, it encompassed what I was thinking when contemplating a Web Log. I had a very punch-drunk perception of the life I wanted it to have and so far, I’m still in the misty.

For me, the fun lies in the obscure. The freedom of the unknown is inviting. Cracking open a new post, sitting back and watching where it takes me (don’t be fooled – I’m not doing the driving) is captivating. Well, for me. I can only hope that for you, it’s at least mildly entertaining.

I enjoy coming across inspiration in the most surprising places. I take immense pleasure in another way of looking at things. I’m ecstatic my reflections have somewhere to call home.

Ten posts, a handful of readers and only two fibs. Let’s not adjust the sails…the mystic’s a sweet place to be.